oh grantors of dark disgrace (do not wake me again)
by SparkleMoose
Summary: Amari has met his death by being murdered twice now and he isn't pleased about it in the least. The first time, he deserved it. The second time he was just trying to help a woman out. Now he's dead, in Rukongai, in Inzuri, and he wonders how long it'll take before he dies this time. Byakuya/OMC. Morally Grey OMC.


**I thought of a Byakuya/OMC fic a while ago and FINALLY got around to gathering my notes for it and actually doing something with them. The things you find while moving are amazing. I mean I found inspiration for this story, a cute antique china set, and my motivation for all my other stories. Amazing. Wonderful. Who knew that putting off packing all your books away would lead to such discoveries?**

 **Really though, moving sucks. Anyway, let me know what you think of this! And whether or not I should continue.**

 **...God I hope (in vain) that this doesn't end up as long as As The Wind Blows if I continue it.**

* * *

This is not the first time Amari has died but he hopes it's the last.

Death, as he has learned, is never pleasant. There is something about having your body try its hardest to survive that is unsettling when one knows that they are going to die. It's as though your body is willing you to survive, telling you that you will survive even when your brain has already accepted death as an inevitable fact.

A hoarse laugh escapes Amari's mouth. He had hoped to die of old age this time, instead here he is, lying, bleeding to death in an alley in Tokyo all because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

Vaguely, Amari recalls that his last life had ended in a similar way, only thanks to his connections to the Underworld, he had been shot in the head instead.

Fuck, is he ever going to learn not to piss people off? At least this life had been clean, he had been a civilian poet, had been published his own book, had been doing well. Then he had seen someone harass a young woman in an alley and he couldn't just leave her.

He had gotten shot in the gut for his troubles.

His attacker had fled when they realized what they had done, and Amari has to wonder whether or not they were inherently malicious or just desperate for money. He doesn't get to think about it long however, as the woman has her hands on his gunshot wound trying to stop the bleeding.

He smiles at her.

"It'll be okay," he tells her, "You'll be fine."

She nods her head, her whole body shaking.

Amari closes his eyes and lets go.

* * *

Amari wakes up, blinks up at the sky above him and groans. There are buildings on either side of him and it looks as though he is in an alleyway. The buildings look ancient, as though they belonged in the Edo period and each of them are in dire need of repairs.

It looks as though he has somehow wound up in a slums of some sort.

He is decidedly not in the alley he had been shot in. The bullet wound in his gut is gone, he no longer feels blood staining his mouth red, and most of all he feels alive.

Which, considering he should be dead, is funny.

Huffing out a laugh, Amari pushes himself up on his elbows to get a better look at the area he has wound up in and promptly notices the sword that had been laying on his chest as it slides down onto his lap.

Letting an amused grin form on his face, Amari runs his fingers down the swords sheath, pausing when it seems to give a comforting hum at his touch.

That is, Amari decides, the weirdest thing that has happened to him in either of his lives. He should leave it behind before he gets sucked into some fate forced quest. Something in Amari protests when he thinks of leaving the sword behind though, so rolling his eyes, and ignoring the pleasing humming noise that the sword seems to make, Amari grabs it, and stands.

It's better, he rationalizes, to be with some sort of protection in a new place than none at all.

The sword hums in agreement.

Amari decides that's going to get annoying fast.

The sword seems to almost cackle in response.

Amari rolls his eyes, and takes a better look at where he is. The alley is terrible and filthy and Amari is pretty sure that's blood on the ground. He ignores it, it's not his problem, and there aren't any bodies around so he figures that whoever left the blood either got help or traveled far enough to die elsewhere.

Amari looks toward the mouth of the alley, what greets him is the sight of more ramshackle huts and vendor stalls that look like they've seen better days.

It's then Amari knows that he isn't in Tokyo anymore.

* * *

Inzuri.

Three days after he wound up here and Amari finds out he is in fucking Inzuri. The seventy-ninth district of Rukongai, the place where Rukia and Renji grew up.

Amari is in a fucking fictional afterlife from a manga that he had read in his very first life. He would like to think that it's just coincidence that after he died Amari wound up somewhere with the same name where two of his favorite characters grew up. That it was whatever deity is out there way of saying 'Welcome to the afterlife it isn't so bad!'.

Amari knows though that there are no such thing as coincidences ad that he is without a doubt, screwed.

Maybe not as screwed as others here. Amari does have some combat skills, he knows kenjutsu so the sword won't go to waste, and he had been trained in various hand to hand combat in his second life. It was only the element of surprise and the fact that he had not been prepared to deal with a gun that had enabled his killer to kill him. So he isn't wholly unprepared for this life.

Still, he would have preferred to have wound up in one of the lower districts, you know, the ones where you don't have to steal or kill for food.

Making a disgusted noise as he steps over another unidentifiable object that he really doesn't want to look too closely at, Amari wonders where the hell he's going to sleep tonight, or if he even needs sleep. He's dead now, and while he is hungry, he isn't sure that he needs sleep, he hasn't slept since he got here, or if he his hunger isn't a side effect of dying and that when he eats something it'll disappear and he'll never feel the need to eat something again.

It'd be a shame not to eat again, Amari muses even as his stomach growls at the thought of food, after all food is one of life's greatest pleasures.

A scream splits the air behind him, and Amari freezes. It's one thing to hear the howl of a Hollow through a screen, it's another to actually hear it. The scream makes the hair on the back of Amari's neck stand on end, it makes him want to run and hide and never, ever, come back out. It reminds him of the howl a dying man makes as he curses you and your family.

It reminds Amari of death, and so soon after his own death, it pisses him off.

Being hungry and pissed off is a dangerous combination.

Amari has no desire to be eaten by a Hollow. No desire to die this time without putting up some form of a fight.

Amari turns, grateful that he had put his sword in the belt of his yukata and used the rope on his sword's sheath to help secure it there, and in one fluid motion draws the blade from its sheath.

There is nothing, Amari thinks as people scatter out of the Hollow's way as it comes rushing toward him, that prepares you to face a Hollow. Their face is a blank void, it is not shiny, it does not reflect light, but seems to adsorb it. Their bodies are black as oil, showing you all the fears you thought you grew out of and for one awful moment Amari feels himself freeze, his muscle locked and he thinks this is how he's going to die again.

 _No_ , a voice in his head says, soft and firm in its resolve, _You will not die here._ His body seems to relax at those words, and just the Hollow, an ugly thing that crawls on four legs, jumps to devour him Amari moves out of the way.

Ignoring the Hollow's angry howl, Amari darts forward as it raises it's head to look for him and brings his blade down just as it raises its front leg and rams it forward. Amari tries to dodge but it moves so fast and Amari is simply not fast or skilled enough to dodge.

Amari goes flying into a vendor's stall and wastes no time in jumping to his feet. Forever thankful that his sword somehow managed to stay in his hand, Amari brings up his sword just in time for the Hollow to appear above him.

Amari ignores the pain in his back and arms as he shoves his sword forward with all his strength. It slips through the mask fairly easily, like it's a knife cracking open a piece of large, frozen chocolate, and Amari's surprise doesn't sink in as he drags his sword down, splitting the mask in half.

The Hollow lets out a screech that only raging dying men know and disappears.

Amari lets his arms fall limply to the side and sits down in the remains of the vendor stall he crashed into. His sword still in his hand beside him and Amari doesn't think he's going to let it go anytime soon.

 _Fuck,_ he thinks staring up at the night sky as people begin to return to the area, _His life._

If the thought of being a Shinigami ever crossed his mind it is firmly crossed off his list of career options now.

Someone approaches him, an old man with a greying beard. He eyes Amari as though he's interested in something. Amari knows they probably don't get many new souls killing Hollow's here but looking at Amari like that is just weird.

"Hey," Amari says, using his hand that isn't busy clutching his sword to wave at the man, "You want something."

The old man huffs like he's amused by Amari's lack of respect.

"That's my stall you're sitting in young man," the old man says, "Though, I suppose you can sit there all you want as you saved us from that Hollow."

Amari can't help it, he laughs a note of hysteria in his voice.

"Shit," he swears, "I really did just kill a Hollow didn't I?" He doesn't expect the man to answer is mildly surprised when he does.

"You did," the old man confirms, his voice surprisingly gentle, "Not as clean as a Shinigami mind you, but you killed it."

"Damn good thing I have no desire to become a Shinigami then."

The old man outright laughs at that.

"Can't say I blame you," he says, his grey eyes twinkling and Amari's own eyes narrow as the old man's hand comes to rest on his own sword, "Shinigami are full of themselves. Plus facing Hollow's all the time would be rough I imagine."

"Yeah," Amari says, "I bet it would be."

Silence reigns between them for a moment. The old man observing Amari carefully and Amari making no move to leave because he's exhausted. He's hungry and filthy and would like nothing more than a nap.

He doesn't think he'll get any of those things.

Fuck.

"What's your name?" the old man asks suddenly.

Amari blinks.

"It's Amari," he says, "What's yours?"

The old man smiles.

"I'm Yutaka," he says, "And I have a proposition for you."

"Does it involve food?" Amari asks dryly, "Or perhaps someplace to sleep? Because if no, then I'm not interested."

"Demanding aren't you?"

Amari snorts.

"I wouldn't call asking for basic human decency being demanding."

The old man laughs.

"Yes," he says, his eyes twinkling again, "I think you'll do," ignoring Amari's suspicious look, the man continues, "I offer all of those things, the training you will require to survive in Inzuri, and the training you will require to properly wield your zanpakuto."

Amari blinks, and lets out a string of curses so vivid that it startles the old man.

"You mean this," Amari says, holding up his sword, "Is a fucking zanpakuto?"

"I wouldn't use such language, but yes."

Amari remembers the voice that spoke to him during his fight with the Hollow, and as much as he doesn't want to believe Yutaka's words he can't find fault in them.

"Well," Amari says, "Fuck."

Yutaka laughs.

"That was my reaction when I learn what I wielded was as well," Yutaka tells him, "But back to my offer. Do you accept it?"

Amari thinks. He could refuse, but he is fairly certain that while he can hold his own against a human he wouldn't survive an attack by another Hollow. There is also the matter of his zanpakuto, he could just use it as a regular sword, but the part of him that was a fanboy is giddy with the thought of what his zanpakuto could do.

Another issue is the matter of food, clothes, hygiene and housing. It seems as though Yutaka is offering him all these things, but he still doesn't know the price that comes with it.

"What would you have me do?" Amari asks.

"Become my apprentice," Yutaka says, "I am old and weary. But I have much to teach and you seem like a worthy student."

Amari considers.

"Alright," he says at last, standing and sheathing his zanpakuto, "What does that entail exactly."

"The other residents of Inzuri know what it means," Yutaka says, "You show your youth with just those words."

"A bad thing I take it?"

"No," Yutaka chuckles, "Just refreshing. Follow me."

Amari follows.


End file.
